Devil May Cry 15 Shadow of Shin
by maX Volnutt
Summary: A mysterious new foe looms from the corners of the shadow to challenge the legendary dark night, Dante. With a power like no other this spectre of death will stop at nothing to exact a misguilded revenge on the son of Sparda. (Chapter 5 is finally up!!!)
1. Chapter 1: Let's Rock, Baby!

Disclaimer: The fact is Dante, Trish, Mundus, Sparda and whomever the hell else I use belongs to Capcom.

A/N:  Whoo!  This is gonna suck!  Just so you know this takes place right at the end of the first game, and being written just to explain what the hell happened to Trish and why she isn't in DMC2.  R&R or go to hell!

Devil May Cry 1.5: 

Shadow of Shin 

**Mission One: Let's Rock, Baby!**

            "Hello, Devil Never Cry," she said into the dull black receiver.  Trish was one hell of a chick.  In her tight black leather pants and platinum blonde hair that fanned out behind her despite the absence of wind, she managed to even make answering the phone look more like a lap dance.

            "Mm-hmm.  Fine.  Be there in ten minutes or your pizza's free."  She put the phone into a charger that lay next to a bull-like skull with a Force Edge protruding from its forehead.  A trophy from one of my many hunts, like the dozens that lined the walls of our dinghy rent-an-office.

            "Dante," she began, turning to face me.  It seemed like a good time to put down my copy of 'Jugs and Ammo' and pay attention.  "A job."

            "Yeah, so I've heard." Came my own gruff voice.

            "I don't think this is any ordinary devil hunt," she said as she strode towards a case made from a smashed motorcycle (to commemorate the first time we had ever met) her hells clicking all the way.  "This one's got the password.  Sounds heavy."

            "Meh," was my simple reply.  Along with my nonchalance I still had to show off my style before we left.  My feet left the ground and slammed against a nearby wall.  One swipe and I retrieved one of my scarlet leather overcoats that I regularly hung from the ceiling fan.  Of course, Trish failed to be impressed.

            "Oh well," she sighed.  "Hrm.  Let's try and get this done in ten minutes."  As she spoke she threw up the lid of the mangled case.

            "No problem for a couple of legendary dark nights," I said jogging over towards where I stored a friendly lightning sword by the name of Alastor while simultaneously throwing on a vest over my trench.

            "Your always making the same old stupid jokes," she retorted as she drew forth a huge single-blade sword.  Six feet long and accents of rouge, this was the sword that had belonged to my demon father.  The sword that bore his name.

            Sparda.  The one who opposed Mundus and the terrors of the underworld.

            "Yes, mother," I joked.  Well not completely joked.  Trish really was a reproduction of my mother.  That'll be our little secret.

            Alastor securely strapped to my back, it was time to wake up my two oldest friends.  I crouched near a small willow box near my desk.  From inside I brought two colt 45 long barrels, that I had made with my own hands.  Ebony, my black titanium son, and Ivory, my white platinum daughter.  "Time to go to work, guys," I whispered with a kiss to each one.

            "You ready yet?!"  She called and threw open the doors.

            "Trish," I said, holding her back.

            "Hm?"

            "Let's give it five minutes."

            "More than enough."

            "Hee, heh, heh.   He's coming.  The boy and his mother.  Hreh hehahahha!!"  A Cheshire grin of razor teeth glinted in the darkness and maniacal laughter rung the throat of the silence.

            Wind whipped past my face.  "Dammit Trish!  Can't we just drive?!"

            "Oh yeah," she called across to me, "Go ahead and walk in to the DMV and tell them that you've never driven a normal car, but you are half devil and have saved the world a couple of time but, oh yeah, you do know how to drive a motorcycle and a nineteenth century biplane like a pro!  I'm sure they'll give you a license!"

            "Yeah, and running from rooftop to rooftop is a much better form of transportation!"  I said, followed by an Air Hike across a particularly wide alleyway.

            "Don't worry.  You make it look good."  I hate to admit it, but this wasn't a lie.  I'm a damn stylish guy.  I'm only thirty, but my snow-white hair is still a nice touch, and I must say I look good in a tight vest and red leather pants.

            "There!  It should be just after that row of houses!"

            I stopped at the edge of the roof.  "That the place?"

            "Don't you know it."

            "Another huge creepy mansion, right smack in the middle of a perfectly normal city.  Sometimes I think I'm gonna walk into one of these places and find Count Dracula posing."

            "Ha, ha.  Shut up and work."

            "Braw."

            We each leaped from our perch in turn.  The tails of my coat flew upwards into my face, struggling against the wind.  I fired Ebony and Ivory towards the earth, successfully slowing my descent enough to hit the ground running.

            I flipped easily over the fence guarding the manor and reached the front door, Trish arriving directly after.

            "Open it."

            I reached behind me.  As I wrapped my fingers around Alastor's handle I could feel it's lighting energy infusing with my demonic blood.  What a rush.  I jammed the blade between the double doors and forced it upwards, shattering the lock.  The oak panels flung apart and we stepped over the threshold.

A/N:  Well, there you have it.  My first short, crappy chappie.  It didn't start off too well, but near the end there I started to get back some of my old swagger.  When you review please use the DMC mission ranking system (please S, please S, please S…) And because you where patient enough to struggle through this I'm going to reward you with a piece of poetry about Dante that I wrote for my creative writing class. ; p

**Dante, Spring's Demon Son** A graceful beauty, 

Hides a black clouded power.

Not the sound of a storm on the

Secure boundaries of your home,

But the rhythmic vibrations of

Bullets of Black and White on flesh,

Or shining red orbs of blood on concrete

Or impossible tears on Satan's cheek.

Is that the wind whipping,

Through the tangle branches,

Or is it his crimson robes against the vacuum,

Or a namesake sword scraping on bone,

Or is it the shallow breath of a

Weeping fire pillar?

Because when Spring gives in to Autumn

And releases his father's demon legacy,

When he releases the lightning blade

Of his true nature,

Or the hellflaming fists of Summer,

Even the devil may cry.


	2. Chapter 2: Blackheart Revenge

  Disclaimer:  I suck, and therefore I invented none of the Characters from Devil May Cry.  No, those go to some guy over at Capcom, but anyone who wasn't in the game is mine, all mine!  Muahahahahahahahaha!

Mission Two: Blackheart Revenge 

            "What?!  There's nothing here!"  Trish was right.  We had just stepped into what looked like a cliché 'Riddle House' mansion.  On the inside however there was nothing.  Only a huge empty space veiled in shadow.  The only distinct feature were the identical marble statues that covered the walls around the space.  Each one a figure bearing one dove and one bat wing.

            "Watch the statues and keep on guard.  Stay close to the—" My whispered instructions were cut short when a huge slam rang from behind us. "—Door."

            With no option left to us we carefully stepped towards the center of the room.  Our eyes met with each of the statue's as we passed.

            Clickety-click came an echo from the deepest shadows in the room's corners.  "Did you hear that?" I hissed to my sidekick.  "I don't think we're alone."

            Something flitted out of the corner of my eye, like something crawling across the ceiling.  My gloved hands squeezed hard against Alastor, her power ready to be triggered at a moment's notice.

            Unfortunately, I didn't have any notice whatsoever before it happened.  A streak of flames sweeped across my face, forcing me backwards.  As I fell back, Alastor bent at a ninety-degree angle, the blade stuck into the floor.  The handle tore through my flesh, my shoulder blade and out of my chest, accompanied by many spurts of blood.  Fortunately, impalation wasn't completely unfamiliar to me.

            I struggled my neck around to face Trish when I heard the crackle of fire and a grunt.  She, too must have been struck.  The sounds were followed by the scraping of metal on wood, and Sparda slid across the floor to just within my vision.

            I knew what had just assaulted us.  The smell of brimstone and my own sautéed flesh was unmistakable.  I had just been smacked by the gauntlets of Ifrit.  The very ones that I had lost on the eventful plane ride off of  Melee Island.  The question was whose fists had been occupying them?  Who, besides myself, had the power to tame the fire god?

            "Dante!" screamed Trish, her voice, slightly muffled.  I glanced over and saw that the distortions were caused by blood in conjunction with a hand cloaked in flame wrapped around her neck.  The fire did almost nothing to light the shadowed owner of the hand except for a reflection on a grin of inch long pointed teeth.

The sight the flesh of Trish's throat flaring up and bubbling under the figure's long fingers was too much to bear.  I longed to tear away from Alastor, but the more I struggled against the handle's twisted grooves I was rewarded only with sharp waves of pain and flying streams of blood.

So my last resort.  "Hey dirtbag!  Picking on a lady?!  I'd think with a mansion like this you'd have a little bit of class!"  My taunting did its job.  He lowered Trish and paused momentarily before tossing her across the room where she lay limply at the feet of a statue.

The gentle 'tip-tap' of his boots coming ever closer was a prelude to pain.  In moments I felt the repeated collisions of Ifrit against my own helpless form.  With each blow I felt my body press against Alastor, still jammed firmly into the ground.  The pressure got worse and worse until…

"AAARRGGGHH!!!"  Alastor ripped outward through my shoulder, leaving my arm dangling from a thin strip of skin and muscle.

I lay there clutching the bloody mutilated tear with my one still functioning hand.  A gentle 'plip' came from near by when left and right Ifrit dropped to the floor nearby.  Whoever this attacker was, he had the nerve to ad insult to injury by tossing aside my old friends after using them against me.  I watched as The flames that surrounded them flickered and died.  Nothing could re-ignite them now.  This mysterious figure's mere touch had killed Ifrit.

Insult's addition to injury was not yet finished.  I could feel his long claw tipped fingers pierce the skin of each side of my chest.  He lifted me to my feet by my would-be collar.  His form was finally visible.

He was surprisingly humanoid.  He was a youthful looking man clothed in black robes over a bare, muscled chest decorated with many scars.  He was oddly pale, and had long black hair, streaked with red-brown strands.  His eyes where ice-blue, practically white.  His lips stretched back in a twisted smile, revealing those horrid devil teeth.

"How could you think you were the only one?" His voice was oddly calm, moving quickly from high to a low growl.  The voice of a mad man.

"Only one what?" came the only words I could bring to mind.

"You killed Mundus.  How cold you do that to me?!" he said, the tiniest bit of spittle flying from his lips.

"What are you talking about?!" I screamed.  He responded by digging his fingers ever deeper.

"You weren't the only one with a grudge against Mundus."  He put his face an inch from mine.  "Your daddy banished him just after he killed my daddy.  I wanted to get Mundus this time!  But no.  Your bloodline always has to hog the glory.  Your father is the legendary dark night, but daddy dearest was remembered only as a rebellious general of the underworld's armies.  That means I get to kill you."

"You think I dive a single red orb what the fuck Mundus did to you?  He killed my mother, and that's all I care about.  He made my brother, Virgil, into a slave, and that's all I cared about.  But most of all, I had the power to defeat him, so I did.  Let's see you take on a Phantom alone, smiley."

He slammed me down against the ground, snapping several floorboards beneath me.  "Well, you beat Mundus, and I'm beating you.  Doesn't that mean I have the power to kill Mundus?"  He punctuated his sentence by dragging a long, lizard-like tongue across my face.

"Faggot."

He drew to his feet and stepped over towards Sparda.  He bent and took it by the handle.

"Don't you touch that you damn freak!"  He swung, and slashed, and jabbed with Sparda.  He twisted his head towards mine, making sure our eyes met.  He smirked his terrible smirk and stole my heritage.  The parts of Sparda's blade flitted quickly up the handle and formed a glaive, then bent into a scythe.

            "Your father's weak, Dante.  See how easily I have made him my slave."

            "Put down Sparda!"

            "Don't worry.  I'll give him purpose."

            "Who are you, mad man?!"

            "You can call me Shin.  And just so you know, I you want the password your gonna have to find me."  With these words he slashed with Sparda and tore a rift in spacetime and slipped off into the void right before it closed.

            "Dante," came Trish's dim voice from the corner.  But she wasn't the only thing stirring in the room.


	3. Chapter 3: Revival

Disclaimer:  They don't belong to me, but they will.  Oh, they will.  Muahahahahaha!

Mission 3: Revival 

            The stiff stone joints of the statues were beginning to scrape into life.  And of course I was just lying there, bleeding like a damned stuck pig.

            I could hear the tapping of Trish's heels coming toward me though I never caught the sight with my vision clouding from blood loss.  I felt her cold hands clamp around mine.

            "Dante!  What do I—"

            "Alastor. Get Alastor," I managed to choke out.  Once again there was the sound of her running, now punctuated with the crackling sound of the marble men beginning to move.  These were immediately followed by the pressure of Alastor being lain across my chest.  I stumbled my hands over the handle and clutched my fingers around each other. 

The surge of energy was felt almost immediately.  The grip of thunder rushed through my body and clutched at my demon heart.  My vision not only cleared but it sharpened to that of a hawk.  I could feel the flesh around my wound absorb my spilt blood and seal itself, the muscle continuing to expand past normal size.  My burnt skin rippled and transformed to a hard armor.  My once shattered shoulder blade had fused and was branching out from my body into large bat-like wings.  My pure sight filtered purple from the storm cloud that emanated from my own quickly beating heart.  Alastor had saved me and engulfed me.

I jumped to my feet but stayed on them for a second.  I swept my powerful wings and rose into the air.

The grim soldiers of stone that had menaced us from the beginning had now come upon us.  From the very energy around me I drew Ebony and Ivory.  They too, had undergone a morphogenesis. They're gleaming metal shells had been replaced with a layer of organic stone that slithered lovingly over my hands as I aimed.

I pulled back their triggers and fired they're new power.  Each shot didn't fire a bullet, but rather bolts of forking lighting.  Every crooked beam tore away into many, striking back the dozens of statues that were surrounding Trish, every impact surrounded by the sound of shattering boulders.

The many angelic devils turned their attention toward my air raid.  Their loss of concentration proved fatal for one when a stiletto heeled boot clothed in bright yellow energy connected with the side of its face, chipping away half of it's head.  Trish's trigger had snapped and her guns had been drawn.  She fired a rapid barrage of devil power tracers.

Puffball collective.

I pulled my eyes away from Trish and brought my thought to my own task.  I aligned my sights with a single devil.

"Feh.  I wish all of you minions I'm always fighting put up as much of a fight as your bosses," I mocked, my voice altered by Alastor's steely overtones.  The creature cocked its head to the source of the taunts.  Their slow moving monotony vanished in a second, it's stone legs sprung into action.  In a blink it sprinted forward and leaped up to my height.

Suddenly his hand shot out and clamped down round my ankle.  As he fell he drug me down through the air.  I flapped my wings frantically, struggling against the weight of the foot soldier.  He landed swiftly on the floor and begun to fling me about like a rag doll.  All became a blur.  He released suddenly and I was left to flail as I headed toward the wall.

I squeezed my eyelids tight and put the first set of motions I could think of into play.  I pumped my legs, as if to run.  To my surprise I didn't feel the sudden aches of being slammed into a wall and slumping down against the floor.  All I felt were my rapid foot falls.  I flicked open my eyes and glanced around.

I was running on the wall.  I pushed myself away from the wall near a corner, twisted my body upside down and worked my legs on the ceiling.  A sudden realization that I had unconsciously aimed my weapons at the devil that had thrown me.  Bolts of hot revenge flashed out of their chambers.

I slowed my run and I found myself falling toward the ground.  Instead of my boots hitting the floor they balanced on the shoulders of a startled angel demon.  He ran and flailed, knocking several of his own to the ground where they were easy targets for Trish and myself.  I felt the marble warrior I was standing on reach up and grab me just below the knee.  So he felt Ivory's barrel pressed against his rock-filled rock of a head.  Then he felt nothing ever again.

I moved from the corpse over to Trish.  We each looked toward the last living creature, which pressed himself nervously against the wall.  I sent Alastor out on a round trip, and all was a spray of glittering scarlet glass.

Trish breathed a sigh of relief and her devil trigger subsided.  Alastor released his grip on my body and I was once again Dante.

I looked down at my hands, shaking.  My father had been stolen from me.

"Come on Dante.  Let's collect these orbs."

"Sparda…"

A/N: Did I mention this fic is meant to connect the first and second games?  Well there you have it, the death of Ifrit and the gain of two of his coolest new abilities.  


	4. Capter 4: Ray's Occult

Disclaimer: They belong to me! Mine! *clutches Dante's leg as Capcom lawyers try desperately to pull him away* Oh, and if anyone can figure out what Ray is from they get a prize. Or something.  
  
A/N: I've recently come across some secrets in DMC2 that completely offset where I was heading in this fic. So now, this is no longer my addition to Canon but instead a fic about what could have happened in-between games if things had worked out in favor of drama.  
  
Mission Four: Ray's Occult  
  
I stepped through the doorway of a tiny, dank shop filled with ancient books and vials of illicit liquids. The jangle of the welcome bell caused Trish, who followed me closely, to jump.  
"Welcome to Ray's Occult, your number one source for all of your supernatural needs," greeted a man absentmindedly from behind the counter. His nose was buried in a thick leather bound book. He was aging and obviously growing chubby. His brown hair also seemed to be thinning. He was one of those jumbled masses of all human ailments, arranged into a fairly normal looking man. "Now, Ray. Do you greet all of your old buddies with commercials?" I said. He broke his eyes away from Incantations for all Occasions and moved them onto me. "Dante?" he said through a thick New York accent. "Goddamn, it's been a while." I wrapped one arm around him a brotherly hug. "What is it this time? You need to see the god of time? Lemme just take you back." "Not this time Ray. Just looking for some information." "Yeah? All right then. Are you sure I can interest you in some impulse items?" he said with a gesture to a rack bearing a sign reading 'Dracul's Bane brand silver nitrate 'n' garlic'. "No thanks. You know I'm not in the vampire game." "Well, in that case, what kind of information are you looking for?" "You wouldn't know where I could find another sword with a resident spirit?" "Spirit? Hrm. What's the matter, you finally lose Alastor? I told you it was gonna happe-" His eyes skipped quickly over my equipment. "Good god almighty, you've lost Sparda!" "Not lost. Stolen." "Stolen?! Who in the underworld would wanna take your old man?!" "That's another question I was looking to ask you. You know about some whack job, go by the name of err . . . Shin I think he called himself." "Shin? Maybe. What's he look like?" "Black hair, orange streaks, no shirt. Ring a bell?" "Hell yes. Shin, he's a big timer. One of the top devil hunters, right up there with you. Egon, back in The Apple says he's been on the Ghost Busting business too. More than that I'm clueless." "Clueless? Ray, you're never clueless. You know more than your saying." "Nothin', honest. Nobody's seen him work. He just goes in and comes out a few thousand red orbs richer. He never leaves anything living. You can even tell a place he's cleansed, he so damn clean." "Yeah, well. He left me living. I don't even think he had to."  
Ray sent out a long amazed whistle. "Man, halfie. You're messing with some bad jujubes."  
"Bad Jujubes? What the hell?" "Oh. Yeah, that's one of Peter's."  
"Should've known." It dawned on me that I couldn't waste all of this time smalltalking. "Ray, about the sword . . ."  
"Oh yeah. Okay, lemme just dig out your genealogy chart and the mystic items guild. It'll only be a sec, Jeannine just reorganized."  
Ray disappeared through a doorway with bizarre odors and noises drifting from it. Trish glanced over at me. She had been standing there uncomfortably since we entered. This was her first venture into Ray's and I could tell she was slightly put off by his failure to even notice, let alone mention her.  
"Don't worry about Ray. He knows you exist. Your just lucky the old guy hasn't started hitting on you."  
"Dante, you hang around with the creepiest-" Trish's snide remark was cut short by Ray's reentry. He was carrying a piece of folded parchment and a large emerald leather book.  
"Here we go," he said, spreading the parchment over an old oak table. He flicked on a light, making the heading to the parchment visible. It read Lineage of Sparda Blacksiege I. Ray expertly scanned over it, cross- referencing various branches of the tree with pages from the book, titled Swords and Souls. As Ray continued his search my eyes fell onto my own name at the very bottom of the tree scribbled in Ray's hand. He had jotted it there on my very first meeting.  
"Hmm. It looks like your bloodline entitles you to quite a few blades. Good ones too." Ray's eyes continued down the page. "Let's see. There's Vendetta series. But those were all set for scrapping in some corporation-controlled city somewhere in France. Too bad. That one seems right up your alley. What else, what else."  
I stood uneasily on the spot, ice spiders creeping up my spine. The uneasy feeling of my precognitive sense for danger loomed ever closer. Something had to becoming closer. Something familiar.  
"Well, there's The Sabre of Vlad Tepes. But I don't think the whole blood sucking repercussions are worth it. Ah! Here it is! I knew this one was in here somewhere!" Ray's voice broke through my unsteady thoughts. "Rebellion! Good balance, nice power. The size you macho guys like. Yes, an all around good sword. Plus, it was forged my a human, used and enchanted for a devil, your great uncle I think, so it'll work perfectly with your freak-o morph. Now, what about it's current whereabouts." We stood in grim silence for a moment as ray skimmed over ancient pages. I glanced over to Trish with an apprehensive look, wondering if she could feel the dark presence edging closer. She replied with an equally shaky expression. "Damn!" shouted Ray, "It says here that it's been totally lost since the second Tri-World War. Man, you'd think someone would have found it on accident by now. Oh well. What else is there." He looked over his book once more then snapped shut. "Nothing! Sorry buddy, your gonna have to stick with Alastor. Not the best thing if your gonna be goin' up against someone like Shin but at least it's a shot. Plus, I'd just keel if the twins didn't put up a fight."  
"Yeah, well Eb and Iv may have to go to work sooner than you think. Thanks for your help Ray, but you may want to lock up the shop and hold up in the back for a bit. I have a feeling something is about to happen."  
"I'll take any excuse to take a little time off. Go on, get outta here."  
"Take care, ol' buddy." With that last remark I turn to the door. I had just laid a hand on the brass handle when Ray's voice abruptly stopped me."  
"Hey, Dante. Aren't you gonna introduce me to that tall drink you got there?  
  
The click of Ray's door locking behind us had only just passed when a foul odor hit the air accompanied by the beating of wings.  
"Dante," whispered Trish, "Is that. No it couldn't be."  
"It is. It has to be ol' feather face." As if on cue, the outline of a huge bird rose from behind a clump of buildings that lined the street.  
"Again we meet son of Sparda! Master Shin has agreed to let me repay you for what you did to me and Lord Mundus," boomed the voice of Griffin. 


	5. Capter 5: Undead Loyalty

Disclaimer:  Did you know that some studio just got the rights to do a DMC movie?  Another company is doing a manga too.  Everyone gets the rights for it except me.  That's why none of these characters belong to me, blah blah blah.

**Chapter Five: Undead Loyalty**

"Well, well.  If it isn't my old fine-feathered-five-faced-friend.  Still haven't heard about deodorant, I see.  Or should I say smell?"  I yelled up to the mighty bird in my usual flattering demeanor.  I really wasn't in a mood to provoke anything more than twice my size and more than three times the number of heads, but it provided an opportunity to look over my old opponent and scout for new weaknesses.  He was essentially the same bird.  Same brown ruffled plumage, same air of regality, same inner power.  But he was somehow different.  Aside from being slightly bigger than I remember, there was also some sort of definite variation in his energy.  "What are you doing on this side?  I seem to remember seeing you die."

            "Death is a navigable obstacle for a servant of fate's gate keeper."

            "Oh yeah that's right," I said, leaning forward against the gusts of wind that passed over me every time the powerful devil beat it's wings,  "You're working for that Slashfic of a fruit, Shin, aren't you?"

            "Shin is a powerful and great master.  He has granted me the strength and opportunity to kill you for the almighty Mundus…" As Griffin continued to ramble I came to the realization of what was different about him.  In his chest, where there was once only a gaping vortex red power there had now grown horizontal bars of what looked like a thick, skeletal armor.  In addition, the energy beneath it was a dark violet that burned with nearly twice the intensity of his former source of power.

            "Yeah, yeah.  Bet he didn't tell you about his grudge against Tri-Eye.  He's just pissed at me 'cause I killed Mundus before he had a chance."  Griffin had really increased in power.  It would probably be best to avoid a direct battle.

            "Why should I believe you, who had lain many a wound on me to get to my master, or He, death, who gave new life, new strength to my unanimated body, for the soul purpose of avenging my master!"

            "Loyal to the end, and then some…" I said more to myself than to Griffin.

            Before I spouted anything else, Trish came up just behind me and spoke softly into my ears.  "Dante," she whispered, "I can't help you out with this one."

            "What?!" I replied, trying to move my lips a little as possible.  "Why not."

            "I can't touch him.  Mundus created every one of his minions so that we couldn't hurt each other.  He has an oil on his feathers that could kill me if I get even a little on my skin."

            "All right.  Just go back to Ray's and make sure nothing happens.  Keep Yin and Yang close."  Trish reached down and pulled a pair of guns, almost the size of Ebony and Ivory, made from gray and silver steel.  She started to turn away but was stopped suddenly by the ringing of Griffin's deep, multi-toned voice.

            "Trish!  So that is you.  You really have betrayed our master…  I will taste your blood for this.

            "Flock off, featherface!" yelled Trish, in a surprisingly calm, taunting voice.

            "You heard the lady.  Either put your money where your beak is, or get ready to eat it!"

            "What did you say, you filthy little human?!"

            "I said, EAT IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!"  With my warcry still handing in the air, I rushed forward.  I had barely gotten my hand around Alastor's grooved handle when Griffin's reaction hit me like a ton of crap. 

            One Wing swooped down in a wide arc, tossing me halfway across the cobblestone street.  I hit the ground poised on all fours, and chanced a glance behind me.  Trish was trotting backwards towards the door of Ray's while firing a shower of bullets toward Griffin.  My moment of paternal weakness almost cost me big.  When I looked back I saw a quite unfazed Griffin sending a horizontal bar of pure, throbbing  energy toward me.  I kicked off from the ground just fast enough to feel my hair stand on end and a slight tingling burn that seemed to come more from inside of my body.

In the couple of microseconds when I was up side down I noticed the energy had seared the ground as it passed, reducing the top few centimeters to tar.  If I had hit it, I might as well had been a punching bag, and I had not yet felt the familiar tensing in my muscles that meant Alastor could be released.  My hands flew into my coat and drew forth Ebony and Ivory.  

A loud 'Squaaaaaa!' came from Griffin's direction, obviously out of rage from the sight of the weapons that I had used to defeat him last time.  But I wasn't about to aim at him when keeping myself from sticking to the road took precedence over attacking with barely effective bullets.  

I twisted my body parallel to the ground and stretched one arm toward the slurry of pavement and the other straight with my body.  I squeezed back on the their triggers as fast as I ever had before, the crack of gunpowder was blended with the popping of my  stiff fingers and the 'splooch' of lead striking the still seething street.  With every shot I could feel my arched body being harshly pushed upward and backward toward the nearest building.  I looked up in the direction one of my arms had been firing and saw that most of my bullets had, by chance, come in contact with Griffin but had done little more than ruffle his feathers.

"Do you see you fool?!  Mightier is the power of Shin than even I dreamed!  He has made me even more powerful!"

I had finally reached the concrete structure I had been moving towards.  I ceased fire and dropped like a stone.  I pushed Ebony and Ivory out of sight just fast enough grab hold of a brass statue of an eagle's head that jutted from the building, like the dozens of others that continued down the street.  I spun around the gothic architecture like a child's clacker toy in a windstorm.

"Strong enough to kill the son of Sparda!"  I couldn't hold on to the statue much longer, the friction was already starting to heat the leather of my gloves.  I knew I wouldn't have to struggle to stay on much longer though, as a  trampling sound and bursts of wind as with impatiently beating wings signaled Griffin charging.

I released the statue and let my body fling limply into the air.  A deafening clash and a clang cracked the silence of the wide streets.  A second later I landed nimbly on my feet on the next statue, my knees buckling ever so slightly.  I turned on my heel toward where I had just jumped.  Standing there was Griffin looking slightly dazed and where the statue had been there was only a crater filled with crushed stone and flattened brass.

"Aww, does the irony give the ickle spring chicken a headache?" I hollered, a note of laughter overt in my voice.

Griffin whirled around toward the source of the voice, a half confused, half-enraged fire burning in his many sets of eyes.

"I've cooked you before, turkey, but I'm more in the mood for desert.  Here's my impression of the Gingerbread Man!"  With that I took off down the street, leaping from one eagle statue to the next.  I landed with only one foot before taking off, forming more of a long, awkward run than a series of leaps.  I peered over my shoulder to see Griffin's massive form right behind me, tearing away statues as he went.  I hiked off of a street lamp and jumped unsteadily onto a windowsill, but Griffin's enhanced reaction time had kept him right on my ass.  I switched back over too the more uniformly dispersed statues and headed on with only one thought in my head. _Got to get him away from Ray's._

"Stop running you coward!" came Griffin's voice, a roar of impatience.  I immediately felt the tingle of the hairs on my neck standing on end.  I leaped moments before another powerful blast of purple electricity tore down the road reducing all of the remaining statues to piles of golden colored goop dripping down the wall.  

This was another chance for me to hit a brick wall.  I had no hope of making it where I was leading him on the ground if he melted it again.  I had to stay up in the air.

My mind shot to memories of the chateau where we had run into Shin's minions.  It had worked once…  We didn't have very far to go, and anything was worth a shot…

I hit the ground with one hand and sprung towards the wall of buildings that lined the opposite end of the street.  When I was an inch from ramming into the stone walls, I began pumping my legs as hard as I could.  The sides of my soles hit hard against the concrete of the buildings, and my ankles twisted painfully with the first couple of steps, but I had gotten more than the desired results.  I had hoped to run up the wall as I did at the mansion.  What I had managed to do was run horizontally along the wall.

A loud growling crow from behind me showed that Griffin was expecting this even less than I was.

I, on the other hand, didn't have the time to be surprised.  I continued to jab at the wall with my legs, the strength in my ankles forking tiny cracks the brick on every pounding step.  _It can't be more than a block…_

Then I saw it.  The spot where I had been trying to lead Griffin.

I reached a huge archway made up of two identical stone angels reaching out to each other.  It's decrepit structuring crumbled away as I hiked off of one of the pillars that supported it, launching me straight through whatever lay beyond it.

I twisted my shoulders around and flung myself into a corkscrew spin, an impossible target in case Griffin was closer behind me than I thought.

A second later I landed wide-footed with Alastor drawn and at the ready.  I stood in the middle of a long forgotten town square, a wide circle lined in sun-bleached-yellow buildings.  I wasn't, however, observing these surroundings but staring intently back through the archway.  Sure enough it exploded way a second later in a shower of stone as the mass of chestnut feathers that was Griffin entered.

He glared for a moment before splitting his many faces in a multi-voiced roar.  With an effortless brush of his wings he swung a disembodied head of one of the angels toward me.   Brought Alastor around three times rendering the former sculpture into formless chunks of marble.  I shot one hand behind my back and felt one of the pieces drop heavily into my hand.  I brought it out from around my back spinning on the tip of my index finger.

"Plenty of room here," I said just loud enough for him to hear me.  I let the stone fall into my palm before easily reducing it to a fine powder, my eyes never leaving his.  "That means no holding back!!!"


End file.
